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CALIFORNIA   /if' 
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2 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/deptdittiesOOkipliala 


Uniform  with  this   volume,  by  Rudyara 
Kipling:  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 


Departmental  Ditties 
and  other  verses  ^   ^ 


RUDYARD  KIPLING 


NEW  YORK    :     M.  F.  MANSFIELD 
22  EAST  SIXTEENTH  STREET 


Copyright, 

1898, 
M.  F.  Mansfield  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


A  Ballad  of  Burial 

65 

A  Code  of  Morals 

12 

A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Offick 

19 

Army  Headquarters 

16 

Delilah 

28 

Departmental  Ditties 

3 

General  Summary 

5 

In  Springtime 

79 

La  Nuit  Blanche 

54 

Municipal 

44 

My  Rival 

59 

Pagett,  M.P. 

68 

Pink  Dominoes 

37 

Possibilities 

85 

Public  Waste 

25 

Study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian  Ink 

10 

The  Bethrothed 

88 

The  Last  Department 

48 

The  Lovers'  Litany 

62 

The  Man  Who  Could  Write 

40 

The  Mare's  Nest 

76 

The  Overland  Mail 

81 

The  Post  that  Fitted 

7 

The  Rupaiyat  of  Omar  Kal'vin 

72 

The  Story  of  Uriah 

23 

To  the  Unknown  Goddess 

51 

What  Happened 

^2 

DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES. 
1 

I    HAVE  eaten  your  bread  and  salt, 
I  have  drunk  your  water  and  wine, 
The  deaths  ye  died  I  have  watched  beside, 
And  the  lives  that  ye  led  were  mine. 

Was  there  aught  that  I  did  not  share 

In  vigil  or  toil  or  ease, — 
One  joy  or  woe  that  I  did  not  know. 

Dear  hearts  across  the  seas  ? 

I  have  written  the  tale  of  our  life 
For  a  sheltered  people's  mirth, 

In  jesting  guise — but  ye  are  wise. 
And  ye  know  what  the  jest  is  worth. 


GEIslERAL  SUMMARY. 

WE  are  very  slightly  changed 
From  the  semi-apes  who  ranged 
India's  prehistoric  clay ; 
Whoso  drew  the  longest  bow, 
Ran  his  brother  down,  you  know. 
As  we  run  men  down  to-day. 

"  Dowb,"  the  first  of  all  his  race, 
Met  the  Mammoth  face  to  face 

On  the  lake  or  in  the  cave. 
Stole  the  steadiest  canoe, 
Ate  the  quarry  others  slew, 

Died — and  took  the  finest  grave. 

When  they  scratched  the  reindeer-bone, 
Some  one  made  the  sketch  his  own. 

Filched  it  from  the  artist — then, 
Even  in  those  early  days. 
Won  a  simple  Viceroy's  praise 

Through  the  toil  of  other  men. 
5 


GENERAL  SUMMARY. 

Ere  they  hewed  the  Sphinx's  visage 
Favoritism  governed  kissage, 
Even  as  it  does  in  this  age. 

Who  shall  doubt  the  secret  hid 
Under  Cheops'  pyramid 
Was  that  the  contractor  did 

Cheops  out  of  several  millions  ? 
Or  that  Joseph's  sudden  rise 
To  Comptroller  of  Supplies 
Was  a  fraud  of  monstrous  size 

On  King  Pharaoh's  swart  Civilians  ? 

Thus,  the  artless  songs  I  sing 
Do  not  deal  with  anything 
New  or  never  said  before. 
/As  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
I    Is  to-day  official  sinning, 
\       And  shall  be  for  evermore. 


THE  POST  THA  T  FITTED. 

Though  tangled  and  twisted  the  course  of  true  love, 

This  ditty  explains 
No  tangle's  so  tangled  it  cannot  improve 

If  the  Lover  has  brains. 

ERE  the  Steamer  bore  him  Eastward, 
Sleary  was  engaged  to  marry 
An  attractive  girl  at  Tunbridge,  whom  he 

called  "my  little  Carrie." 
Sleary's  pay  was  very  modest ;  Sleary  was 

the  other  way. 
Who  can  cook  a  two-plate  dinner  on  eight 
paltry  dibs  a  day? 

Long  he  pondered  o'er  the  question  in 

his  scantly  furnished  quarters — 
Then  proposed  to  Minnie  Boifkin,  eldest 

of  Judge  Boffkin's  daughters. 
Certainly  an  impecunious  Subaltern  was 

not  a  catch, 
But    the     Boffkins    knew    that    Minnie 

mightn't  make  another  match. 
7 


THE  POST  THA  T  FITTED. 

So  they  recognized  the  business,  and,  to 

feed  and  clothe  the  bride. 
Got  him  made  a  Something  Something 

somewhere  on  the  Bombay  side. 
Anyhow,   the   billet  carried   pay  enough 

for  him  to  marry — 
As  the  artless  Sleary  put  it: — "  Just  the 

thing  for  me  and  Carrie." 

Did  he,  therefore,  jilt  Miss  Boffkin — 
impulse  of  a  baser  mind? 

No !  He  started  epileptic  fits  of  an  appal- 
ling kind. 

(Of  his  modus  operandi  only  this  much  I 
could  gather: — 

**  Pears'  shaving  sticks  will  give  you  little 
taste  and  lots  of  lather.") 

Frequently  in  public  places  his  affliction 

used  to  smite 
Sleary  with  distressing  vigor — always  in 

the  Boffkins'  sight. 


THE  POST  THAT  FITTED. 

Ere  a  week  was  over  Minnie  weepingly 
returned  his  ring, 

Told  him  his  "  unhappy  weakness"  stop- 
ped all  thought  of  marrying. 

Sleary  bore  the  information  with  a  chas- 
tened holy  joy, — 

Epileptic  fits  don't  matter  in  Political 
employ, — 

Wired  three  short  words  to  Carrie — took 
his  ticket,  packed  his  kit — 

Bade  farewell  to  Minnie  Boffkin  in  one 
last,  long,  lingering  fit. 

Four  weeks  later,    Carrie   Sleary  read — 

and  laughed  until  she  wept — 
Mrs.    Boffkins'    warning    letter    on    the 

"wretched  epilept." 
Year  by  year,  in  pious  patience,  vengeful 

Mrs.  Boffkin  sits 
Waiting  for  the  Sleary  babies  to  develop 

Sleary's  fits. 

9 


STUDY  OF  AN  ELEVATION,   IN 
INDIAN  INK. 


This  ditty  is  a  string  of  lies. 

But — how  the  deuce  did  Gubbins  rise  ? 


POTIPHAR  GUBBINS,  C.  E., 
Stands  at  the  top  of  the  tree ; 
And  I  muse  in  my   bed    on    the    reasons 
that  led 

To  the  hoisting  of  Potiphar  G. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  seven  years  junior  to  Me; 
Each    bridge    that  he    makes    he    either 
buckles  or  breaks, 

And  his  work  is  as  rough  as  he. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  coarse  as  a  chimpanzee; 
And  I  can't   understand   why   you   gave 
him  your  hand. 

Lovely  Mehitabel  Lee. 


STUDY  OF  AN  ELEVATION,  IN 

INDIAN  INK. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 

Is  dear  to  the  Powers  that  Be ; 

For  They  bow  and  They  smile  in  an  affa- 
ble style 

Which  is  seldom  accorded  to  Me. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E., 
Is  certain  as  certain  can  be 
Of  a  highly  paid    post  which  is  claimed 
by  a  host 

Of  seniors — including  Me. 

Careless  and  lazy  is  he, 
Greatly  inferior  to  Me. 
What  is  the  spell  that  you  manage  so  well, 
Commonplace  Potiphar  G.  ? 

Lovely  Mehitabel  Lee, 
Let  me  inquire  of  thee, 
Should  I  have  riz  to  what  Potiphar  is, 
Hadst  thou  been  mated  to  Me  ? 
II 


A  CODE  OF  MORALS. 


Lest  you  should  think  this  story  true, 
I  merely  mention  I 
Evolved  it  lately.    'Tis  a  most 
Unmitigated  misstatement. 


NOW    Jones    had    left   his    new-wed 
bride  to  keep  his  house  in  order, 
And  hied  away  to  the  Hurrum  Hills  above 

the  Afghan  border, 
To  sit  on  a  rock  with  a  heliograph ;  but 

ere  he  left  he  taught 
His  wife  the  wording  of  the  Code    that 
sets  the  miles  at  naught. 

And  love  had  made  him  very  sage,  as 
Nature  made  her  fair; 

So  Cupid  and  Apollo  linked,  per  helio- 
graph, the  pair. 

At  dawn,  across  the  Hurrum  Hills,  he 
flashed  her  counsel  wise — 

At  e'en,  the  dying  sunset  bore  her  hus- 
band's homilies. 

12 


A  CODE  OF  MORALS. 

He  warned  her  'gainst  seductive  youths 
in  scarlet  clad  and  gold, 

As  much  as  'gainst  the  blandishments  pa- 
ternal of  the  old; 

But  kept  his  gravest  warnings  for  (hereby 
the  ditty  hangs) 

That  snowy-haired  Lothario,  Lieutenant- 
General  Bangs. 

'Twas  General  Bangs,  with  Aide  and  Staff, 
that  tittupped  on  the  way, 

When  they  beheld  a  heliograph  tempes- 
tuously at  play; 

They  thought  of  Border  risings,  and  of 
stations  sacked  and  burnt — 

So  stopped  to  take  the  message  down — 
and  this  is  what  they  learnt : — 

*'  Dash  dot  dot,  dot,  dot  dash,  dot  dash 
dot "  twice.     The  General  swore. 

"Was  ever  General  Officer  addressed  as 
'  dear '  before  ? 
13 


A  CODE  OF  MO  HALS. 

'My  Love,'    i' faith!    'My    Duck,'  Gad- 

zooks!  '  My  darling  popsy-wop! ' 
Spirit  of  great  Lord  Wolseley,  who  is  on 

that  mountain  top  ? " 

The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute ;  the 

gilded  Staff  were  still, 
As,  dumb  with  pent-up  mirth,  they  booked 

that  message  from  the  hill ; 
For,  clear  as  summer's    lightning   flare, 

the  husband's  warning  ran : — 
'*  Don't  dance  or  ride  with  General  Bangs 

— a  most  immoral  man." 

(At  dawn,  across  the  Hurrum  Hills,   he 

flashed  her  counsel  wise — 
But,  howsoever  Love  be  blind,  the  world 

at  large  hath  eyes.) 
With  damnatory  dot  and  dash  he  helio- 

graphed  his  wife 
Some  interesting^  details  of  the  General's 

private  life. 


A  CODE  OF  MORALS. 

The  artless  Aide-de-cama  was  mute;  the 
shining  Staff  were  still, 

And  red  and  ever  redder  grew  the  Gen- 
eral's shaven  gill. 

And  this  is  what  he  said  at  last  (his  feel- 
ings matter  not) : — 

"  I  think  we've  tapped  a  private  line. 
Hi !     Threes  about  there  I     Trot !  " 

All  honor  unto  Bangs,  for  ne'er  did  Jones 

thereafter  know 
By  word  or  act  official  who  read  off  that 

helio. ; 
But  the  tale  is  on  the  Frontier,  and  from 

Michni  to  Mool/a« 
They  knew  the  worthy  General  as  "that 

most  immoral  man." 


15 


ARMY  HEADQUARTERS. 


Old  is  the  song  that  I  sing — 

Old  as  my  unpaid  bills — 
Old  as  the  chicken  that  kitmutgars  bring 

Men  at  dak- bungalows — old  as  the  Hills. 


AHASUERUS     JENKINS     of     the 
"Operatic  Own" 
Was  dowered  with  a  tenor  voice  of  super- 

Santley  tone. 
His  views  on  equitation  were,  perhaps,  a 

trifle  queer; 
He  had  no  seat  worth  mentioning,  but 
oh !  he  had  an  ear. 

He    clubbed   his   wretched    company    a 

dozen  times  a  day, 
He  used  to  quit  his  charger  in  a  parabolic 

way, 
His  method  of  saluting  was  the  joy  of  all 

beholders. 
But  Ahasuerus  Jenkins  had  a  head  upon 

his  shoulders. 

i6 


ARM  Y  HEADQ  UAR  TERS. 

He  took  two  months  to  Simla  when  the 

year  was  at  the  spring, 
And   underneath    the    deodars    eternally 

did  sing. 
He  warbled  like  a  bulbul,  but  particularly 

at 
Cornelia  Agrippina,  who  was  musical  and 

fat. 

She  controlled  a  humble  husband,  who  in 
turn  controlled  a  Dept. , 

Where  Cornelia  Agrippina's  human  sing- 
ing birds  were  kept 

From  April  to  October  on  a  plump  retain- 
ing fee, 

Supplied,  of  course,  per  mensem,  by  the 
Indian  Treasury. 

Cornelia  used  to  sing  with  him,  and  Jen- 
kins used  to  play; 

He  praised  unblushingly  her  notes,  for  he 
was  false  as  they: 
17 


ARMY HEADQUAR TERS.  ■ 

So  when  the  winds  of  April  turned  the 

budding  roses  brown, 
Cornelia  told  her  husband: — "Tom,  you 

mustn't  send  him  down." 

They  haled  him  from  his  regiment,  which 

didn't  much  regret  him; 
They  found  for  him  an  office  stool,  and 

on  that  stool  they  set  him. 
To  play  with  maps  and  catalogues  three 

idle  hours  a  day. 
And  draw  his  plump  retaining  fee — which 

means  his  double  pay. 

Now,  ever  after  dinner,  when  the  coffee 
cups  are  brought, 

Ahasuerus  waileth  o'er  the  grand  piano- 
forte ; 

And,  thanks   to   fair  Cornelia,   his    fame 
hath  waxen  great, 

And  Ahasuerus  Jenkins  is  a  power  in  the 
State. 

i8 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    FOREIGN 
OFFICE. 


This  is  the  reason  why  Rustum  Beg, 

Rajah  of  Kolazai, 
Drjnketh  the  "simpkin"  and  brandy  peg, 

Maketh  the  money  to  fly, 
Vexeth  a  Government  tender  and  kind. 
Also — but  this  is  a  detail — blind. 

RUSTUM  BEG  of  Kolazai— slightly 
backward  native  state — 
Lusted  for  a  C.  S.  I., — so  began  to  sani- 
tate. 
Built  a  Jail  and  Hospital — nearly  built  a 

City  drain — 
Till  his  faithful  subjects  all  thought  their 
ruler  was  insane. 

Strange  departures  made  he   then — yea, 
Departments  stranger  still, 

Half    a   dozen    Englishmen    helped    the 
Rajah  with  a  will, 

Talked  of  noble  aims  and  high,  hinted  of 
a  future  fine 

19 


A   LEGEND    OF    THE    FOREIGN' 
OFFICE. 


For  the   State   of  Kolazai,  on   a  strictly 
Western  line. 

Rajah  Rustum   held  his  peace;    lowered 

octroi  dues  a  half; 
Organized    a   State   Police;    purified   the 

Civil  Staff; 
Settled  cess  and    tax    afresh    in    a  very 

liberal  way; 
Cut  temptations  of  the  flesh — also  cut  the 

Bukhshi's  pay; 

Roused  his  Secretariat  to  a  fine  Mahratta 

fury, 
By  a  Hookum  hinting  at  supervision  of 

dasturi; 
Turned  the  State  of  Kolazai  very  nearly 

upside  down; 
When  the  end  of  May  was  nigh,  waited 

his  achievement  crown. 
20 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    FOREIGN 
OFFICE. 


Then  the  Birthday  Honors  came.     Sad  to 

state  and  sad  to  see, 
Stood  against  the  Rajah's  name  nothing 

more  than  C.  I.  E.! 

Things  were  lively  for  a  week  in  the  State 

of  Kolazai. 
Even  now  the  people  speak  of  that  time 

regretfully. 

How  he  disendowed  the  Jail — stopped  at 

once  the  City  drain; 
Turned  to  beauty  fair  and  frail — got  his 

senses  back  again ; 
Doubled  taxes,  cesses,  all;  cleared  away 

each  new-built  thana; 
Turned    the   two-lakh    Hospital    into    a 

superb  Zenana; 

Heaped  upon  the  Bukhshi   Sahib  wealth 
and  honors  manifold ; 

21 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    FOREIGN 
OFFICE. 


Clad  himself  in  Eastern  garb — squeezed 
his  people  as  of  old. 

Happy,  happy  Kolazai!  Never  more  will 
Rustum  Beg 

Play  to  catch  the  Viceroy's  eye.  He  pre- 
fers the  "simpkin"  peg. 


THE  STORY  OF  URIAH. 

"Now  there  were  two  men  in  one  citj-;  the  one 
rich  and  the  other  poor." 

JACK  BARRETT  went  to  Quetta 
Because  they  told  him  to. 
He  left  his  wife  at  Simla 

On  three-fourths  his  monthly  screw: 
Jack  Barrett  died  at  Quetta 

Ere  the  next  month's  pay  he  drew. 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Quetta. 

He  didn't  understand 
The  reason  of  his  transfer 

From  the  pleasant  mountain-land: 
The  season  was  September, 

And  it  killed  him  out  of  hand. 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Quetta, 
And  there  gave  up  the  ghost, 

Attempting  two  men's  duty 
In  that  very  healthy  post; 

And  Mrs.  Barrett  mourned  for  him 
Five  lively  months  at  most. 
23 


THE  STORY  OF  URIAH. 
Jack  Barrett's  bones  at  Quetta 

Enjoy  profound  repose; 
But  I  shouldn't  be  astonished 

If  now  his  spirit  knows 
The  reason  of  his  transfer 

From  the  Himalayan  snows. 

And,  when  the  Last  Great  Bugle  Call 

Adown  the  Hurnai  throbs, 
When  the  last  grim  joke  is  entered 

In  the  big  black  Book  of  Jobs, 
And  Quetta  graveyards  give  again 

Their  victims  to  the  air, 
I  shouldn't  like  to  be  the  man 

Who  sent  Jack  Barrett  there. 


24 


PUBLIC  WASTE. 

Walpole  talks  of  "a  man  and  his  price."        ' 
List  to  a  ditty  queer— 

The  sale  of  a  Deputy-Acting-Vice- 
Resident-Engineer, 

Bought  like  a  bullock,  hoof  and  hide. 

By  the  Little  Tin  Gods  on  the  Mountain  Side. 

BY  the  Laws  of  the  Family  Circle  'tis 
written  in  letters  of  brass 
That  only  a  Colonel  from  Chatham  can 

manage  the  Railways  of  State, 
Because  of  the  gold  on  hisbreeks,  and  the 

subjects  wherein  he  must  pass; 
Because  in  all  matters  that  deal  not  with 
Railways  his  knowledge  is  great. 

Now  Exeter  Battleby  Tring  had  labored 

from  boyhood  to  eld 
On  the  Lines  of  the  East  and  the  West, 

and  eke  of  the  North  and  South; 
Many  Lines  had  he  built  and  surveyed — 

important  the  posts  which  he  held ; 
And  the  Lords  of  the  Iron  Horse  were 

dumb  when  he  opened  his  mouth. 
25 


PUBLIC  WASTE. 

Black  as  the  raven  his  garb,  and  his  her- 
esies jettier  still — 

Hinting  that  Railways  required  lifetimes 
of  study  and  knowledge ; 

Never  clanked  sword  by  his  side — Vauban 
he  knew  not,  nor  drill — 

Nor  was  his  name  on  the  list  of  the  men  who 
had  passed  through  the  "College." 

Wherefore  the  Little  Tin  Gods  harried 
their  little  tin  souls. 

Seeing  he  came  not  from  Chatham,  jing- 
led no  spurs  at  his  heels, 

Knowing  that,  nevertheless,  was  he  first 
on  the  Government  rolls 

For  the  billet  of  "Railway  Instructor  to 
Little  Tin  Gods  on  Wheels." 

Letters  not  seldom  they  wrote  him,  "  hav- 
ing the  honor  to  state," 

It  would  be  better  for  all  men  if  he  were 
laid  on  the  shelf: 
26 


PUBLIC  WASTE. 

Much  would  accrue  to  his  bank  book,  and 

he  consented  to  wait 
Until   the  Little   Tin  Gods  built   him  a 

berth  for  himself. 

**  Special,  well  paid,  and  exempt  from  the 

Law  of  the  Fifty  and  Five, 
Even  to  Ninety  and  Nine" — these  were 

the  terms  of  the  pact: 
Thus  did  the  Little  Tin  Gods  (long  may 

Their  Highnesses  thrive !) 
Silence   his   mouth  with  rupees,   keeping 

their  Circle  intact; 

Appointing  a  Colonel  from  Chatham  who 

managed  the  Bhamo  State  Line, 
(The  which  was  one  mile  and  one  furlong 

— a  guaranteed  twenty-inch  gauge). 
So  Exeter  Battleby  Tring  consented  his 

claims  to  resign, 
And  died,  on  four  thousand  a  month,  in 

the  ninetieth  year  of  his  age. 
27 


DELILAH. 


We  have  anotner  Viceroy  now,  those  days  are  dead 

and  done, 
Of     Delilah     Aberyswith     and     depraved     Ulysses 

Gunne. 


DELILAH    ABERYSWITH    was    a 
lady — not  too  young — 
With   a  perfect   taste    in  dresses,  and    a 

badly  bitted  tongue, 
With    a    thirst    for    information,   and    a 

greater  thirst  for  praise, 
And  a  little  house  in  Simla,  in  the  Pre- 
historic Days. 

By  reason  of  her  marriage  to  a  gentleman 

in  power, 
Delilah  was  acquainted  with  the  gossip  of 

the  hour; 
And  many  little  secrets,  of  a  half-official 

kind, 
Were  whispered  to  Delilah,  and  she  bore 

them  all  in  mind. 
28 


DELILAH. 

She  patronized  extensively  a  man,  Ulysses 

Gunne, 
Whose  mode  of  earning  money  was  a  low 

and  shameful  one. 
He   wrote    for  divers    papers,    which,  as 

everybody  knows. 
Is  worse  than  serving  in  a  shop  or  scaring 

off  the  crows. 

He  praised  her  "queenly  beauty "  first; 

and,  later  on,  he  hinted 
At  the   "  vastness  of  her  intellect"  with 

compliments  unstinted. 
He  went  with  her  a-riding,  and  his  love 

for  her  was  such 
That  he  lent  her  all  his  horses,  and — she 

galled  them  very  much. 

One  day,  They  brewed  a  secret  of  a  fine 

financial  sort; 
It  related  to  Appointments,  to  a  Man  and 

a  Report. 

29 


DELILAH. 

'Twas    almost   worth  the    keeping  (only 

seven  people  knew  it), 
And  Gunne  rose  up  to  seek  the  truth  and 

patiently  ensue  it. 

It  was  a  Viceroy's  Secret,  but — perhaps 

the  wine  was  red — 
Perhaps  an  aged  Councillor  had  lost  his 

aged  head — 
Perhaps    Delilah's    eyes    were    bright — 

Delilah's  whispers  sweet — 
The  Aged  Member  told  her  what  'twere 

treason  to  repeat. 

Ulysses  went  a-riding,  and  they  talked  of 

love  and  flowers; 
Ulysses  went  a-calling,  and  he  called  for 

several  hours; 
Ulysses    went    a-waltzing,    and    Delilah 

helped  him  dance — 
Ulysses  let  the  waltzes  go,  and  waited  for 

his  chance. 

30 


DELILAH. 

The  summer  sun  was    setting,   and    the 

summer  air  was  still, 
The  couple  went  a-walking  in  the  shade 

of  Summer  Hill, 
The  wasteful  sunset  faded  out  in  turkis- 

green  and  gold, 
Ulysses  pleaded  softly  and  .  .  .   that  bad 

Delilah  told ! 

Next  morn  a  startled  Empire  learnt  the 
all-important  news; 

Next  week  the  Aged  Councillor  was  shak- 
ing in  his  shoes; 

Next  month  I  met  Delilah,  and  she  did 
not  show  the  least 

Hesitation  in  affirming  that  Ulysses  was  a 
"beast." 

We  have  another  Viceroy  now,  those  days 

are  dead  and  done, 
Of   Delilah    Aberyswith  and  most  mean 

Ulysses  Gunne! 
31 


WHAT  HAPPENED. 

HURREE    CHUNDER    MOOKER- 
JEE,  pride  of  Bow  Bazar, 
Owner  of  a  native  press,  **  Barrishter-at- 

Lar," 
Waited  on  the  Government  with  a  claim 

to  wear 
Sabres   by  the   bucketful,    rifles   by    the 
pair. 

Then  the  Indian  Government  winked  a 

wicked  wink. 
Said  to  Chunder  Mookerjee:   "Stick  to 

pen  and  ink. 
They  are  safer  implements;   but,  if   you 

insist, 
We  will   let  you  carry  arms  wheresoe'er 

you  list." 

Hurree    Chunder   Mookerjee  sought  the 

gunsmith  and 

32 


/<*• 

^^^^ 

^m^ 

^'^^ jr\ 

^^^  ^^"^ 

% 

% 

^m 

w 

f'X^ 

-^ 

t. 

WHA  T  HAPPENED. 

Bought  the  tuber  of  Lancaster,  Ballard, 

Dean  and  Bland, 
Bought   a   shiny   bowie-knife,   bought   a 

town-made  sword. 
Jingled    like  a  carriage   horse  when   he 

went  abroad. 

But  the  Indian  Government,  always  keen 

to  please, 
Also  gave  permission  to  horrid  men  like 

these — 
Yar  Mahommed  Yusufzai,  down  to  kill  or 

steal, 
Chimbu  Singh  from  Bikaneer,  Tantia  the 

Bhil. 

Killar  Khan  the  Marri  chief,  Jowar  Singh 

the  Sikh, 
•Nubbee  Baksh  Punjabi   Jat,  Abdul  Huq 

Rafiq— 
He    was    a    Wahabi;     last,    little    Boh 
Hla-oo 

33 


WIIA  T  HAPPENED. 
Took  advantage  of  the  act — took  a  Snider 
too. 

They  were  unenlightened  men,  Ballard 
knew  them  not, 

They  procured  their  swords  and  guns 
chiefly  on  the  spot. 

And  the  lore  of  centuries,  plus  a  hundred 
fights. 

Made  them  slow  to  disregard  one  an- 
other's rights. 

With  a  unanimity  dear  to  patriot  hearts 
All  those  hairy  gentlemen  out  of  foreign 

parts 
Said:    "  The  good  old  days  are  back — 

let  us  go  to  war!  " 
Swaggered  down  the  Grand  Trunk  Road, 

into  Bow  Bazar. 

Nubbee  Baksh  Punjabi  Jat  found  a  hide- 
bound flail, 

34 


WHAT  HAPPENED. 
Chimbu    Singh    from  Bikaneer  oiled  his 

Tonk  jezail, 
Yar  Mahommed  Yusufzai  spat  and  grinned 

with  glee 
As  he   ground  the  butcher-knife  of  the 

Khyberee. 

Jowar    Singh    the   Sikh   procured   sabre, 

quoit,  and  mace, 
Abdul    Huq,   Wahabi,    took    the    dagger 

from  its  place, 
While  amid  the  jungle-grass  danced  and 

grinned  and  jabbered 
Little  Boh  Hla-oo  and   cleared  the  dah- 

blade  from  the  scabbard. 

What   became  of  Mookerjee  ?     Soothly, 

who  can  say  ? 
Yar    Mahommed   only  grins   in   a  nasty 

way, 
Jowar  Singh  is  reticent,  Chimbu  Singh  is 

mute, 

35 


WHAT  HAPPENED. 

But  the  belts  of  them  all  simply  bulge 
with  loot. 

What  became  of  Ballard's  guns  ?  Afghans 
black  and  grubby 

Sell  them  for  their  silver  weight  to  the 
men  of  Pubbi; 

And  the  shiny  bowie-knife  and  the  town- 
made  sword  are 

Hanging  in  a  Marri  camp  just  across  the 
Border, 

What  became  of  Mookerjee  ?     Ask  Ma- 

hommed  Yar 
Prodding    Siva's    sacred    bull    down    the 

Bow  Bazar. 
Speak  to  placid  Nubbee  Baksh — question 

land  and  sea — 
Ask  the  Indian  Congress  men — only  don't 

ask  me! 


36 


PINK  DOMINOES. 

•'  They  are  fools  who  kiss  and  tell," 
Wisely  has  the  poet  sung. 
Man  may  hold  all  sorts  of  posts         "" 
If  he'll  only  hold  his  tongue. 

JENNY   and   Me   were  engaged,  you 
see, 
On  the  eve  of  the  Fancy  Ball ; 
So  a  kiss  or  two  was  nothing  to  you 
Or  any  one  else  at  all. 

Jenny  would  go  in  a  domino — 

Pretty  and  pink  but  warm ; 
While  I  attended,  clad  in  a  splendid 

Austrian  uniform. 

Now  we  had  arranged,  through  notes  ex- 
changed 

Early  that  afternoon, 
At  Number  Four  to  waltz  no  more, 

But  to  sit  in  the  dusk  and  spoon. 

(I  wish  you  to  see  that  Jenny  and  Me 

Had  barely  exchanged  our  troth ; 
37 


PINK  DOMINOES. 

So  a  kiss  or  two  was  strictly  due 
By,  from,  and  between  us  both.) 

When  Three  was  over,  an  eager  lover, 

I  fled  to  the  gloom  outside; 
And  a  Domino  came  out  also 

Whom  I  took  for  my  future  bride. 

That  is  to  say,  in  a  casual  way, 
I  slipped  my  arm  around  her; 

With  a  kiss  or  two  (which  is  nothing  to 
you), 
And  ready  to  kiss  I  found  her. 

She  turned  her  head  and  the  name  she 
said 
Was  certainly  not  my  own ; 
But  ere  I  could  speak,  with  a  smothered 
shriek 
She  fled  and  left  me  alone. 

Then  Jenny  came,  and  I  saw  with  shame 
She'd  doffed  her  domino ; 

38 


PINK  DOMINOES. 
And  I  had  embraced  an  alien  waist — 
But  I  did  not  tell  her  so. 

Next  morn   I  knew  that  there  were  two 

Dominoes  pink,  and  one 
Had    cloaked    the    spouse  of    Sir  Julian 
Vouse, 

Our  big  political  gun. 

Sir  J.  was  old,  and  her  hair  was  gold, 
And  her  eye  was  a  blue  cerulean ; 

And  the  name  she  said  when  she  turned 
her  head 
Was  not  in  the  least  like  "Julian," 

Now  wasn't  it  nice,  when  want  oi pice 

Forbade  us  twain  to  marry, 
That  old  Sir  J.,  in  the  kindest  way, 

Made  me  his  Secrefarry  ? 


39 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  WRITE. 

Shun— shun  the  Bowl !    That  fatal .  facile  drink 
Has  ruined  many  geese  who  dipped  their  quills 
in't: 

Bribe,  murder,  marry,  but  steer  clear  of  Ink 
Save  when  you  write  receipts  for  paid-up  bills  in't. 

There  may  be  silver  in  the  "  blue-  black  " — all 

I  know  of  is  the  iron  and  the  gall. 

BOANERGES  BLITZEN,  servant  of 
the  Queen, 
Is   a    dismal    failure — is   a    Might-have- 
been. 
In  a  luckless  moment  he  discovered  men 
Rise  to    high   position  through   a  ready 
pen. 

Boanerges  Blitzen  argued,  therefore:   "I 
With  the  selfsame  weapon   can  attain  as 

high." 
Only  he  did  not  possess,  when  he   made 

the  trial, 
Wicked  wit  of  C-lv-n,  irony  of  L 1. 

(Men  who   spar  with   Government,    need 
to  back  their  blows, 
40 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD   WRITE.. 
Something  more  than  ordinary  journaUs- 
tic  prose.) 

Never  young  Civilian's  prospects  were  so- 
bright, 

Till  an  Indian  paper  found  that  he  could 
write : 

Never  young  Civilian's  prospects  were  sa 
dark, 

When  the  wretched  Blitzen  wrote  ta 
make  his  mark. 

Certainly  he  scored  it,  bold  and  black 
and  firm, 

In  that  Indian  paper — made  his  seniors 
squirm. 

Quoted  office  scandals,  wrote  the  tact- 
less truth — 

Was  there  ever  known  a  more  misguided 
youth  ? 

When  the  rag  he  wrote  for,  praised  his. 
plucky  game, 

41 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  WRITE. 
Boanerges    Blitzen    felt    that    this    was 

Fame: 
When  the  men  he  wrote  of,  shook  their 

heads  and  swore, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  only  wrote  the  more. 

Posed    as  Young    Ithuriel,   resolute   and 

grim, 
Till  he  found  promotion  didn't  come  to 

him; 
Till   he    found    that   reprimands   weekly 

were  his  lot, 
And  his  many  Districts  curiously  hot. 

Till  he  found  his  furlough  strangely  hard 
to  win, 

Boanerges  Blitzen  didn't  care  a  pin : 

Then  it  seemed  to  dawn  on  him  some- 
thing wasn't  right — 

Boanerges      Blitzen     put     it     down     to 

"spite." 

42 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  WRITE. 
Languished    in  a  District    desolate    and 

dry; 
Watched   the   Local   Government   yearly 

pass  him  by; 
Wondered  where  the  hitch  was;  called  it 

most  unfair. 

That  was  seven  years  ago — and  he  still 
is  there. 


43 


MUNICIPAL. 

"  Why  is  my  District  death-rate  low  ? " 

Said  Blinks  of  Hezebad. 
"  Wells,  drains,  and  sewage-outfalls  are 

My  own  peculiar  fad. 
I  learned  a  lesson  once.    It  ran 
Thus,"  quote  that  most  veracious  man  :— 

IT    was    an    August   evening,    and,    in 
snowy  garments  clad, 
I  paid  a  round  of  visits  in  the   lines  of 

Hezebad; 
When,  presently,  my  Waler  saw,  and  did 

not  like  at  all, 
A  Commissariat  elephant  careering  down 
the  Mall. 

I  couldn't  see  the  driver,  and  across  my 
mind  it  rushed 

That  the  Commissariat  elephant  had  sud- 
denly gone  musth, 

I  didn't  care  to  meet  him,  and  I  couldn't 
well  get  down, 

So   I   let  the   Waler    have   it,    and   we 
headed  for  the  town. 
44 


MUNICIPAL. 

The  buggy  was  a  new  one,  and,  praise 
Dykes,  it  stood  the  strain, 

Till  the  Waler  jumped  a  bullock  just 
above  the  City  Drain; 

And  the  next  that  I  remember  was  a  hur- 
ricane of  squeals, 

And  the  creature  making  toothpicks  of 
my  five-foot  patent  wheels. 

He  seemed  to  want  the  owner,  so  I  fled, 

distraught  with  fear, 
To  the  Main  Drain  sewage-outfall  while 

he  snorted  in  my  ear — 
Reached  the  four-foot  drain-head  safely, 

and,  in  darkness  and  despair. 
Felt  the   brute's   proboscis  fingering  my 

terror-stiffened  hair. 

Heard  it  trumpet  on  my  shoulder — tried 
to  crawl  a  little  higher— 
45 


MUNICIPAL. 

Found    the    Main    Drain    sewage-outfall 

blocked,   some    eight   feet   up,  with 

mire; 
And,  for  twenty  reeking  minutes.  Sir,  my 

very  marrow  froze. 
While  the  trunk  was  feeling  blindly  for  a 

purchase  on  my  toes! 

It  missed  me  by  a  fraction,  but  my  hair 

was  turning  gray 
Before    they  called    the    drivers    up   and 

dragged  the  brute  away. 
Then   I  sought  the  City  Elders,  and  my 

words  were  very  plain. 
They  flushed  that    four-foot    drain-head, 

and — it  never  choked  again. 

You  may  hold  with  surface-drainage,  and 

the  sun-for-garbage  cure, 
Till  you've  been  a  periwinkle  shrinking 

coyly  up  a  sewer. 
46 


MUNICIPAL. 

I  believe  in  well-flushed  cuJverts  .   .  . 

This  is  why  the  death-rate's  small ; 
And,  if   you    don't  believe  me,  get  shih- 
arred  yourself.     That's  all. 


47 


THE  LAST  DEPARTMENT. 

Twelve  hundred  million  men  are  spread 

About  this  Earth,  and  I  and  You 
Wonder,  when  You  and  I  are  dead. 

What  will  those  luckless  millions  do. 

<^  IV  T  ONE  whole   or   clean,"   we   cry, 

i  ^       "or  free  from  stain 
Of  favor."     Wait  awhile,  till  we  attain 
The  Last  Department,  where  nor  fraud 
nor  fools, 
Nor  grade   nor   greed,   shall   trouble  us 
again. 

Pear,     Favor,    or    Affection — what    are 
these 

To  the  grim  Head  who  claims  our  ser- 
vices ? 
I  never  knew  a  wife  or  interest  yet 

Delay  that  pukka   step,   miscalled   "de- 
cease ; " 

When   leave,    long  over-due,    none    can 
deny; 

48 


THE  LAST  DEPARTMENT. 
When  idleness  of  all  Eternity 

Becomes  our  furlough,  and  the  marigold 
Our  thriftless,  bullion-minting  Treasury. 

Transferred  to  the  Eternal  Settlement 
Each  in  his  strait,    wood-scantled  office 
pent, 
No  longer  Brown  reverses  Smith's  ap- 
peals. 
Or  Jones  records  his  Minute  of  Dissent. 

And  One,  long  since  a  pillar  of  the  Court, 
As   mud    between  the  beams    thereof    is 
wrought ; 
And  One  who  wrote  on  phosphates  for 
the  crops 
Is  subject-matter  of  his  own  Report. 

(These  be  the  glorious  ends  whereto  we 

pass — 
Let  Him  who  Is,  go  call   on  Him  who 

Was; 

49 


THE  LAST  DEPARTMENT. 

And  He  shall  see  the  mallie  steals  the 
slab 
For   currie-grinder,   and    for    goats   the 
grass.) 

A    breath    of    wind,    a    Border   bullet's 

flight, 
A  draught  of  water,  or  a  horse's  fright — 

The  droning  of  the  fat  Sheristadar 
Ceases,  the  punkah  stops,   and  falls  the 
night 

For   you  or  Me.    Do  those  who  live  de- 
cline 

The    step    that    offers,    or     their   work 
resign? 
Trust  me,  To-day's   Most    Indispens- 
ables. 

Five  hundred  men  can  take  your  place  or 
mine. 


50 


OTHER  VERSES. 


TO    THE     UNKNOWN    GODDESS. 

WILL   you   conquer  my  heart  with 
your  beauty;  my  soul  going  out 
from  afar  ? 
Shall  I  fall  to  your  hand  as  a  victim  of 
crafty  and  cautious  shikar  ? 

Have  I  met  you  ancj  passed  you  already, 
unknowing,  unthinking  and  blind  ? 

Shall  I  meet  you  next  session  at  Simla,  O 
sweetest  and  best  of  your  kind  ? 

Does  the  P.  and  O.  bear  you  to  me-ward, 
or,  clad  in  short  frocks  in  the  West, 

Are  you  growing  the  charms  that  shall 
capture  and  torture  the  heart  in  my 
breast  ? 

Will  you  stay  in  the  Plains  till  September 
— my  passion  as  warm  as  the  day  ? 

Will  you  bring  me  to  book  on  the  Moun- 
tains, or  where  the  thermantidotes 
play  ? 

SI 


TO    THE   UNKNOWN  GODDESS. 

When  the  light  of  your  eyes  shall  make 
pallid  the  mean  lesser  lights  I  pur- 
sue, 

And  the  charm  of  your  presence  shall 
lure  me  from  love  of  the  gay  "  thir- 
teen-two ; " 

When  the  peg  and  the  pigskin  shall  please 
not;  when  I  buy  me  Calcutta-built 
clothes; 

When  I  quit  the  Delight  of  Wild  Asses; 
forswearing  the  swearing  of  oaths ; 

As  a  deer  to  the  hand  of  the  hunter  when 
I  turn  'mid  the  gibes  of  my  friends ; 

When  the  days  of  my  freedom  are  num- 
bered, and  the  life  of  the  bachelor 
ends. 

Ah  Goddess!  child,  spinster,  or  widow — 
as  of  old  on  Mars  Hill  when  they 
raised 

52 


TO    THE   UNKNOWN   GODDESS. 

To  the  God  that  they  knew  not  an  altar 

— so  I,  a  young  Pagan,  have  praised 

The  Goddess  I  know  not  nor  worship; 
yet,  if  half  that  men  tell  me  be  true, 

You  will  come  in  the  future,  and  there- 
fore these  verses  are  written  to  you. 


53 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 

A  MUCH-DISCERNING  PubHc  hold 

The  Singer  penerally  sings 
Of  personal  and  private  things. 
And  prints  and  sells  his  past  for  gold. 

Whatever  I  may  here  disclaim, 
The  very  clever  folk  I  sing  to 
Will  most  indubitably  cling  to 

Their  pet  delusion,  just  the  same. 

I    HAD  seen,  as  dawn  was  breaking 
And  I  staggered  to  my  rest, 
Tari  Devi  softly  shaking 

From  the  Cart  Road  to  the  crest. 
I  had  seen  the  spurs  of  Jakko 

Heave  and  quiver,  swell  and  sink. 
Was  it  Earthquake  or  tobacco, 
Day  of  Doom  or  Night  of  Drink  ? 

In  the  full,  fresh,  fragrant  morning 

I  observed  a  camel  crawl, 
Laws  of  gravitation  scorning. 

On  the  ceiling  and  the  wall; 
54 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 

Then  I  watched  a  fender  walking, 

And  I  heard  gray  leeches  sing, 
And  a  red-hot  monkey  talking 

Did  not  seem  the  proper  thing. 

Then  a  Creature,  skinned  and  crimson. 

Ran  about  the  floor  and  cried, 
And  they  said  I  had  the   "  jims  "  on, 

And  they  dosed  me  with  bromide. 
And  they  locked  me  in  my  bedroom — 

Me  and  one  wee  Blood  Red  Mouse — 
Though  I  said:   "  To  give  my  head  room 

You  had  best  unroof  the  house." 

But  my  words  were  all  unheeded. 

Though  I  told  the  grave  M.  D. 
That  the  treatment  really  needed 

Was  a  dip  in  open  sea 
That  was  lapping  just  below  me, 

Smooth  as  silver,  white  as  snow, 
And  it  took  three  men  to  throw  me 

When  I  found  I  could  not  go. 
55 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 

Half  the  night  I  watched  the  Heavens 

Fizz  like  *8i  champagne — 
Fly  to  sixes  and  to  sevens, 

Wheel  and  thunder  back  again ; 
And  when  all  was  peace  and  order 

Save  one  planet  nailed  askew, 
Much  I  wept  because  my  warder 

Would  not  let  me  set  it  true. 

After  frenzied  hours  of  waiting, 

When  the  Earth  and  Skies  were  dumb, 
Pealed  an  awful  voice  dictating 

An  interminable  sum, 
Changing  to  a  tangled  story — 

"What  she  said  you  said  I  said  " — 
Till  the  Moon  arose  in  glory, 

And  I  found  her  ...  in  my  head; 

Then  a  Face  came,  blind  and  weeping. 
And  It  couldn't  wipe  Its  eyes. 

And  It  muttered  I  was  keeping 

Back  the  moonlight  from  the  skies ; 
56 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 
So  I  patted  It  for  pity, 

But  It  whistled  shrill  with  wrath, 
And  a  huge  black  Devil  City 

Poured  its  peoples  on  my  path. 

So  I  fled  with  steps  uncertain 

On  a  thousand-year  long  race,   , 
But  the  bellying  of  the  curtain 

Kept  me  always  in  one  place; 
While  the  tumult  rose  and  maddened 

To  the  roar  of  Earth  on  fire, 
Ere  it  ebbed  and  sank  and  saddened 

To  a  whisper  tense  as  wire. 

In  intolerable  stillness 

Rose  one  little,  little  star. 
And  it  chuckled  at  my  illness, 

And  it  mocked  me  from  afar; 
And  its  brethren  came  and  eyed  me, 

Called  the  Universe  to  aid; 
Till  I  lay,  with  naught  to  hide  me, 

'Neath  the  Scorn  of  All  Things  Made. 
57 


LA  NUIT  BLANCHE. 

Dun  and  saffron,  robed  and  splendid, 

Broke  the  solemn,  pitying  Day, 
And  I  knew  my  pains  were  ended, 

And  I  turned  and  tried  to  pray; 
But  my  speech  was  shattered  wholly, 

And  I  wept  as  children  weep. 
Till  the  dawn-wind,  softly,  slowly 

Brought  to  burning  eyelids  sleep. 


58 


MY  RIVAL. 

I    GO  to  concert,  party,  ball — 
What  profit  is  in  these? 
I  sit  alone  against  the  wall 

And  strive  to  look  at  ease. 
The  incense  that  is  mine  by  right 

They  burn  before  Her  shrine; 
And  that's  because  I'm  seventeen 
And  She  is  forty-nine. 

I  cannot  check  my  girlish  blush, 

My  color  comes  and  goes; 
I  redden  to  my  finger-tips, 

And  sometimes  to  my  nose. 
But  She  is  white  where  white  should  be, 

And  red  where  red  should  shine. 
The  blush  that  flies  at  seventeen 

Is  fixed  at  forty-nine. 

I  wish  /  had  Her  constant  cheek : 

I  wish  that  I  could  sing 
All  sorts  of  funny  little  songs, 

Not  quite  the  proper  thing. 
59 


CM^u-fe^VU^  ) 


MV  RIVAL 

I'm  very  gauche  and  very  shy, 

Her  jokes  aren't  in  my  line; 
And,  worst  of  all,  I'm  seventeen 

While  She  is  forty-nine. 

The  young  men  come,  the  young  men  go, 

Each  pink  and  white  and  neat, 
She's  older  than  their  mothers,  but 

They  grovel  at  Her  feet. 
They  walk  beside  Her  'rickshaw  wheels — 

None  ever  walk  by  mine ; 
And  that's  because  I'm  seventeen 

And  She  is  forty-nine. 

She  rides  with  half  a  dozen  men, 

(She  calls  them  "boys"  and  "mashers") 
I  trot  along  the  Mall  alone ; 

My  prettiest  frocks  and  sashes 
Don't  help  to  fill  my  programme-card, 

And  vainly  I  repine 
From  ten  to  two  a.m.     Ah  me! 

Would  I  were  forty-nine ! 
60 


MY  RIVAL. 

She   calls    me    "darling,"    **  pet, "    and 
"dear," 

And  "sweet  retiring  maid." 
I'm  always  at  the  back,  I  know, 

She  puts  me  in  the  shade. 
She  introduces  me  to  men, 

"Cast  "  lovers,  I  opine, 
For  sixty  takes  to  seventeen, 

Nineteen  to  forty-nine. 

But  even  She  must  older  grow 

And  end  Her  dancing  days. 
She  can't  go  on  forever  so 

At  concerts,  balls,  and  plays. 
One  ray  of  priceless  hope  I  see 

Before  my  footsteps  shine : 
Just  think,  that  She'll  be  eighty-one 

when  I  am  forty-nine. 


THE  LOVERS'  LITANY. 

EYES  of  gray  —  a  sodden  quay, 
Driving  rain  and  falling  tears, 
As  the  steamer  wears  to  sea 
In  a  parting  storm  of  cheers. 

Sing,  for  Faith  and  Hope  are  high- 
None  so  true  as  you  and  I — 
Sing  the  Lovers'  Litany: — 
**  Love  like  ours  can  never  die  !  " 

Eyes  of  black — a  throbbing  keel, 

Milky  foam  to  left  and  right; 

Whispered  converse  near  the  wheel 

In  the  brilliant  tropic  night. 

Cross  that  rules  the  Southern  Skyf 
Stars  that  sweep  and  wheel  and  fly 
Hear  the  Lovers'  Litany: — 
"  Lo7)e  like  ours  can  never  die!  " 

Eyes  of  brown — a  dusty  plain 
Split  and  parched  with  heat  of  June, 

63 


THE  LOVERS   LITANY. 
Flying  hoof  and  tightened  rein, 
Hearts  that  beat  the  old,  old  tune. 
Side  by  side  the  horses  fly, 
Frame  we  now  the  old  reply 
Of  the  Lovers'  Litany : — 
"  Love  like  ours  can  never  die  !  " 

Eyes  of  blue — the  Simla  Hills 
Silvered  with  the  moonlight  hoar; 
Pleading  of  the  waltz  that  thrills. 
Dies  and  echoes  round  Benmore. 
''MaM,"  "  Officers;'  "  Good-by,'* 
Glamour,  wine,  and  witchery — 
On  my  soul's  sincerity, 
"  Love  like  ours  can  never  die  !  " 

Maidens,  of  your  charity, 
Pity  my  most  luckless  state. 
Four  times  Cupid's  debtor  I — 
Bankrupt  in  quadruplicate. 
63 


THE  LOVERS'  LITANY. 
Vet,  despite  this  evil  case, 
An  a  maiden  showed  me  grace, 
Four-and-forty  times  would  I 
Sing  the  Lovers'  Litany : — 
* '  Love  like  ours  can  never  die  /  " 


64 


A  BALLAD  OF  BURIAL. 

(  "Saint  PraxecTs  ever  was  the  Church  for  Peace") 

IF  down  here  I  chance  to  die, 
Solemnly  I  beg  you  take 
All  that  is  left  of  "I" 

To  the  Hills  for  old  sake's  sake. 
Pack  me  very  thoroughly 

In  the  ice  that  used  to  slake 
Pegs  I  drank  when  I  was  dry — 
This  observe  for  old  sake's  sake. 

To  the  railway  station  hie, 

There  a  single  ticket  take 
For  Umballa — goods  train — I 

Shall  not  mind  delay  or  shake. 
I  shall  rest  contentedly 

Spite  of  clamor  coolies  make; 
Thus  in  state  and  dignity 

Send  me  up  for  old  sake's  sake. 

Next  the  sleepy  Babu  wake, 
Book  a  Kalka  van  "  for  four." 

Few,  I  think,  will  care  to  make 
Journeys  with  me  any  more 
65 


A   BALLAD    OF  BURIAL. 
As  they  used  to  do  of  yore. 

I  shall  need  a  "special  "  break — 
Thing  I  never  took  before — 
Get  me  one  for  old  sake's  sake. 

After  that — arrangements  make. 

No  hotel  will  take  me  in, 
And  a  bullock's  back  would  break 

'Neath  the  teak  and  leaden  skin. 
Tonga  ropes  are  frail  and  thin, 

Or,  did  I  a  back  seat  take, 
In  a  tonga  I  might  spin — 

Do  your  best  for  old  sake's  sake. 

After  that — your  work  is  done. 

Recollect  a  Padre  must 
Mourn  the  dear  departed  one — 

Throw  the  ashes  and  the  dust. 
Don't  go  down  at  once.     I  trust 

You  will  find  excuse  to  "snake 
Three  days'  casual  on  the  bust," 

Get  your  fun  for  old  sake's  sake. 
66 


A  BALLAD  OF  BURIAL. 

I  could  never  stand  the  Plains. 

Think  of  blazing  June  and  May, 
Think  of  those  September  rains 

Yearly  till  the  Judgment  Day  I 
I  should  never  rest  in  peace, 

I  should  sweat  and  lie  awake. 
Rail  me,  then,  on  my  decease, 

To  the  Hills  for  old  sake's  sake. 


67 


FAGETT,  M.P. 


The  toad  beneath  the  harrow  knows 
Exactly  where  each  tooth- point  goes. 
The  butterfly  upon  the  road 
Preaches  contentment  to  that  toad. 


PAGETT,   M.P.,   was   a   liar,    and    a 
fluent  liar  therewith, — 
He  spoke  of   the  heat   of   India   as   the 

"Asian  Solar  Myth; " 
Came  on  a  four  months*  visit,  to  "study 

the  East,"  in  November, 
And  I  got  him  to  sign  an  agreement  vow- 
ing to  stay  till  September. 

March    came   in  with    the    koil.     Pagett 

was  cool  and  gay, 
Called  me  a  "bloated  Brahmin,"  talked 

of  my  "princely  pay." 
March  went  out  with  the  roses.     "Where 

is  your  heat?  "  said  he. 
"  Coming,"  said  I  to  Pagett.   "  Skittles !  " 

said  Pagett,  M.P. 
68 


PAGETT,  M.P. 

April  began  with  the  punkah,  coolies,  and 

prickly-heat, — 
Pagett  was  dear  to  mosquitoes,  sandflies 

found  him  a  treat. 
He  grew  speckled  and  lumpy — hammered, 

I  grieve  to  say, 
Aryan   brothers  who  fanned  him,   in  an 

illiberal  way. 

May  set  in  with   a  dust-storm, — Pagett 

went  down  with  the  sun. 
All  the  delights  of  the  season  tickled  him 

one  by  one. 
Imprimis — ten  days'  **  liver" — due  to  his 

drinking  beer; 
Later,  a  dose  of  fever — slight,    but  he 

called  it  severe. 

Dysent'ry  touched  him  in  June,  after  the 

Chota  Bursat — 
Lowered    his   portly   person — made   him 

yearn  to  depart. 
6g 


PAGETT,  M.F. 

He  didn't  call  me  a  "Brahmin,"  or 
"  bloated,"  or  "  overpaid," 

But  seemed  to  think  it  a  wonder  that  any- 
one stayed. 

July  was  a  trifle  unhealthy, — Pagett  was  ill 
with  fear, 

Called  it  the  "  Cholera  Morbus,"  hinted 
that  life  was  dear. 

He  babbled  of  "  Eastern  exile,"  and  men- 
tioned his  home  with  tears; 

But  I  hadn't  seen  my  children  for  close 
upon  seven  years. 

We  reached  a  hundred  and  twenty  once 

in  the  Court  at  noon, 
(I've  mentioned  Pagett  was  portly)  Pagett 

went  off  in  a  swoon. 
That  was  an  end  to  the  business;  Pagett, 

the  perjured,  fled 
With   a   practical,  working  knowledge  of 

*'  Solar  Myths"  in  his  head. 
70 


PAGETT,  M.P. 

And  I  laughed  as  I  drove  from  the  station, 
but  the  mirth  died  out  on  my  Hps 

As  I  thought  of  the  fools  like  Pagett  who 
write  of  their  "  Eastern  trips," 

And  the  sneers  of  the  travelled  idiots  who 
duly  misgovern  the  land. 

And  I  prayed  to  the  Lord  to  deliver  an- 
other one  into  my  hand. 


71 


THE    RUrAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KAL 
VIN. 


[Allowing  for  the  difference  'twixt  prose  and 
rhymed  exaggeration,  this  ought  to  reproduce  the 

sense  of  what  Sir  A told  the  nation  some  time  ago. 

when  the  Government  struck  from  our  incomes  two 
per  cent.] 

NOW  the    New   Year,    reviving  last 
Year's  Debt, 
The  Thoughtful  Fisher  casteth  wide  his 
Net; 
So   I   with   begging   Dish   and    ready 
Tongue 
Assail  all  Men  for  all  that  I  can  get. 

Imports  indeed  are  gone  with  all  their 

Dues — 
Lo !  Salt  a  Lever  that  I  dare  not  use, 

Nor  may  I  ask  the  Tillers  in  Bengal — 
Surely  my  Kith  and  Kin  will  not  refuse! 

Pay  —  and    I   promise,  by   the   Dust   of 
Spring, 

72 


THE  RUPAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KAL 
VIN. 

Retrenchment.     If  my  promises  can  bring 
Comfort,  Ye  have  Them  now  a  thousand- 
fold— 
By  Allah!     I  will  promise  Anything! 

Indeed,  indeed,  Retrenchment  oft  before 

I  swore — but  did  I  mean  it  when  I  swore? 

And  then,  and  then.  We  wandered  to 

the  Hills, 

And    so   the    Little    Less    became    Much 

More. 

Whether  at  Boileaugunge  or  Babylon, 
I  know   not   how   the  wretched  Thing  is 
done, 
The  Items  of  Receipt  grow  surely  small; 
The  Items  of  Expense  mount  one  by  one. 

I  cannot  help  it.     What  have  I  to  do 
With  One  and  Five,  or  Four,  or  Three,  or 
Two  ? 

73 


THE  RUPAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KAL 
VIN. 
Let  Scribes  spit  Blood  and  Sulphur  as 

they  please, 
Or  Statemen  call  me  foolish — Heed  not 

you. 

Behold,  I  promise — Anything  You  will. 
Behold,  I  greet  you  with  an  empty  Till — 

Ah!  Fellow-Sinners,  of  your  Charity 
Seek  not  the  Reason  of  the  Dearth,  but 
fill. 

For  if  I  sinned  and  fell,  where  lies  the 
Gain 

Of  Knowledge  ?     Would  it   ease  you   of 
your  Pain 
To  know  the  tangled  Threads  of  Rev- 
enue, 

I  ravel  deeper  in  a  hopeless  Skein  ? 

"Who  hath  not  Prudence" — what  was  it 
I  said, 

74 


THE  RUPAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KAL 

VIN. 

Of  Her  who  paints  Her  Eyes  and  tires  Her 

Head, 
And  gibes  and  mocks  the  People  in  the 

Street, 
And  fawns  upon  them  for  Her  thriftless 

Bread  ? 

Accursed  is  She  of  Eve's  daughters — She 
Hath  cast   off  Prudence,    and   Her  End 

shall  be 
Destruction    .   .   .    Brethien,     of    your 

Bounty  grant 
Some  portion  of  your  daily  Bread  to  Me 


75 


THE   MARE'S  NEST. 

JANE  Austen  Beecher  Stowe  de  Rouse 
Was  good  beyond  all  earthly  need; 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  her  spouse 

Was  very,  very  bad  indeed. 
He  smoked  cigars,  called  churches  slow, 
And     raced — but      this      she     did     not 
know. 

For  Belial  Machiavelli  kept 

The  little  fact  a  secret,  and, 
Though  o'er  his  minor  sins  she  wept, 

Jane  Austen  did  not  understand 
That  Lilly — thirteen-two  and  bay — 
Absorbed  one-half  her  husband's  pay. 

She  was  so  good,  she  made  him  worse; 

(Some  women  are  like  this,  I  think;) 
He  taught  her  parrot  how  to  curse, 

Her  Assam  monkey  how  to  drink. 
He  vexed  her  righteous  soul  until 
She  went  up,  and  he  went  down  hill. 
76 


THE  MARE'S  NEST. 

Then  came  the  crisis,  strange  to  say, 

Which  turned  a  good  wife  to  a  better. 
A  telegraphic  peon,  one  day, 

Brought  her — now,  had  it  been  a  letter 
For  Belial  Machiavelli,  I 
Know  Jane  would  just  have  let  it  lie. 

But  'twas  a  telegram  instead, 

Marked  "urgent,"  and  her  duty  plain 
To  open  it.     Jane  Austen  read : — 

"Your  Lilly's  got  a  cough  again. 
Can't  understand  why  she  is  kept 
At  your  expense."     Jane  Austen  wept. 

It  was  a  misdirected  wire. 

Her  husband  was  at  Shaitanpore. 
She  spread  her  anger,  hot  as  fire, 

Through    six    thin    foreign    sheets   or 
more. 
Sent  off  that  letter,  wrote  another 
To  her  solicitor — and  mother. 
77 


THE  MARE'S  NEST. 
Then  Belial  Machiavelli  saw 

Her  error  and,  I  trust,  his  own, 
Wired  to  the  minion  of  the  Law, 

And  travelled  wifeward — not  alone. 
For  Lilly — thirteen-two  and  bay — 
Came  in  a  horse-box  all  the  way. 

There  was  a  scene — a  weep  or  two— 
With  many  kisses.     Austen  Jane 

Rode  Lilly  all  the  season  through. 
And  never  opened  wires  again. 

She  races  now  with  Belial.     This 

Is  very  sad,  but  so  it  is. 


78 


IN  SPRINGTIME. 

MY  garden  blazes  brightly  with  the 
rose-bush  and  the  peach, 
And  the  koil  sings  above  it,  in  the  siris 
by  the  well, 
From  the   creeper-covered  trellis  comes 
the  squirrel's  chattering  speech, 
And  the  blue-jay  screams  and  flutters 
where  the  cheery  sat-bhai  dwell. 
But  the  rose  has  lost  its  fragrance,  and 
the  koiVs  note  is  strange; 
I  am  sick  of  endless  sunshine,  sick  of 
blossom-burdened  bough. 
Give    me    back  the    leafless   woodlands 
where    the    winds    of   Springtime 
range — 
Give  me  back  one  day  in  England,  for 
it's  Spring  in  England  now! 

Through  the  pines  the  gusts  are  booming, 
o'er  the  brown  fields  blowing  chill, 

79 


IN   SPRINGTIME. 

From   the   furrow  of   the   ploughshare 
streams  the  fragrance  of  the  loam, 
And  the  hawk  nests  on  the  cliff-side  and 
the  jackdaw  in  the  hill, 
And  my  heart  is  back  in  England  mid 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  Home. 
But  the  garland  of  the  sacrifice  this  wealth 
of  rose  and  peach  is; 
Ah !  koil,  little  kbil^  singing  on  the  siris 
bough, 
In  my  ears  the  knell  of  exile  your  cease- 
less bell-like  speech  is — 
QdSi  you  tell  me  aught  of  England  or  of 
Spring  in  England  now? 


80 


THE  OVERLAND  MAIL. 


(^Foot-Service  to  the  Hills.) 


IN  the  name  of  the  Empress  of  India, 
make  way, 
O  Lords  of  the  Jungle,  wherever  you 
roam. 
The  woods  are  astir  at  the  close  of  the 
day — 
We  exiles  are  waiting  for  letters  from 
Home. 
Let  the  robber  retreat — let  the  tiger  turn 

tail — 
In  the  Name  of  the  Empress,  the  Over- 
land Mail! 


With  a  jingle  of  bells  as  the  dusk  gathers 
in, 
He  turns  to  the  foot-path  that  heads 
up  the  hill — 
The  bags  on  his  back  and  a  cloth  round 
his  chin, 

8i 


THE  OVERLAND  MAIL. 
And,  tucked  in  his  waist-belt,  the  Post 

Office  bill:— 
"  Despatched  on  this  date,  as  received  by 

the  rail, 
Per  runner,    two   bags  of   the  Overland 

Mail." 

Is  the  torrent  in  spate  ?     He  must  ford   it 
or  swim. 
Has  the  rain  wrecked  the  road  ?     He 
must  climb  by  the  cliff. 

Does    the  tempest  cry  **Halt"?     What 
are  tempests  to  him  ? 
The  Service  admits  not  a    "but"    or 
an  "if." 

While  the  breath's  in  his  mouth,  he  must 
bear  without  fail, 

In  the  Name  of  the  Empress,  the  Over- 
land Mail. 

From  aloe   to  rose-oak,  from  rose-oak  to 
fir. 

82 


THE  OVERLAND  MAIL. 
From  level  to  upland,  from  upland   to 
crest, 

From  rice-field  to  rock-ridge,  from  rock- 
ridge  to  spur. 
Fly  the  soft  sandalled  feet,  strains  the 
brawny  brown  chest. 

From  rail  to  ravine — to  the  peak  from  the 
vale — 

Up,  up  through  the  night  goes   the  Over- 
land Mail. 

There's  a  speck  on  the  hillside,  a  dot  on 
the  road — 
A    jingle    of   bells    on    the    foot-path 
below — 
There's  a  scuffle  above  in   the   monkey's 
abode — 
The  world  is  awake,  and  the  clouds  are 
aglow. 

83 


THE  OVERLAND  MAIL. 

For  the  great  Sun  himself  must  attend  to 
the  hail: — 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Empress,  the  Over- 
land Mail !  " 


84 


POSSIBILITIES. 

A  Y,   lay  him  'neath  the  Simla  pine — 
■**■     A  fortnight  fully  to  be  missed, 

Behold,  we  lose  our  fourth  at  whist, 
A  chair  is  vacant  where  we  dine. 

His  place  forgets  him;  other  men 

Have  bought  his  ponies,  guns  and  traps. 
His  fortune  is  the  Great  Perhaps 

And  that  cool  rest-house  down  the  glen, 

Whence  he  shall  hear,  as  spirits  may, 
Our  mundane  revel  on  the  height. 
Shall    watch    each    flashing  'rkkshaw- 
light 

Sweep  on  to  dinner,  dance  and  play. 

Benmore  shall  woo  him  to  the  ball 

With  lighted  rooms  and  braying  band, 
And  he  shall  hear  and  understand 

*^Dream  Faces"  better  than  us  all, 
85 


POSSIBILITIES. 

For,  think  you,  as  the  vapors  flee 
Across  Sanjaolie  after  rain, 
His  soul  may  climb  the  hill  again 

To  each  old  field  of  victory. 

Unseen,  who  women  held  so  dear, 

The    strong    man's    yearning    to    his 

kind 
Shall  shake  at  most  the  window-blind. 

Or  dull  awhile  the  card-room's  cheer. 

In  his  own  place  of  power  unknown, 
His  Light  o'  Love  another's  flame, 
His  dearest  pony  galloped  lame, 

And  he  an  alien  and  alone. 

Yet  may  he  meet  with  many  a  friend — 
Shrewd    shadows,    lingering   long   un- 
seen 
Among  us  when  ^^ God  save  the  Queen  " 
Shows  even  "  extras"   have  an  end. 
86 


POSSIBILITIES. 

And,  when  we  leave  the  heated  room, 
And,  when  at  four  the  lights  expire. 
The  crew  shall  gather  round  the  fire 

And  mock  our  laughter  in  the  gloom. 

Talk  as  we  talked,  and  they  ere  death- 
First  wanly,  dance  in  ghostly  wise. 
With  ghosts  of  tunes  for  melodies, 

And  vanish  at  the  morning's  breath. 


87 


THE  BETROTHED. 

"  You  must  choose  between  me  and  your  cipar." 

OPEN  the  old  cigar-box,   get  me    a 
Cuba  stout, 
For   things  are  running  crossways,   and 
Maggie  and  I  are  out. 

We  quarrelled  about  Havanas — we  fought 

o'er  a  good  cheroot, 
And  I  know  she  isexacting,and  she  says  I 

am  a  brute. 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider 

a  space ; 
In  the  soft  blue  veil  of  the  vapor,  musing 

on  Maggie's  face. 

Maggie  is  pretty  to  look  at — Maggie's  a 

loving  lass. 
But  the  prettiest    cheeks    must  wrinkle 

the  truest  of  loves  must  pass. 
88 


THE  BETROTHED. 

There's  peace  in  a  Laranaga,  there's  calm 

in  a  Henry  Clay, 
But  the  best  cigar  in  an   hour  is  finished 

and  thrown  away — 

Thrown  away  for  another  as  perfect  and 

ripe  and  brown — 
But  I  could  not  throw  away  Maggie   for 

fear  o'  the  talk  o'  the  town ! 

Maggie,  my  wife  at  fifty — gray  and  dour 

and  old — 
With  never  another  Maggie  to  purchase 

for  love  or  gold ! 

And  the  light  of  Days  that  have  Been,  the 
dark  of  the  Days  that  Are, 

And  Love's  torch  stinking  and  stale,  like 
the  butt  of  a  dead  cigar — 

The  butt  of  a  dead  cigar  you  are  bound 
to  keep  in  your  pocket — 
89 


THE  BETROTHED. 
With  never  a  new  one  to  light  tho'  it's 
charred  and  black  to  the  socket. 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider 

a  while — 
Here  is  a  mild  Manilla — there  is  a  wifely 

smile. 

Which   is   the    better  portion  —  bondage 

bought  with  a  ring, 
Or  a  harem  of  dusky  beauties  fifty  tied  in 

a  string  ? 

Counsellors  cunning  and  silent — com- 
forters true  and  trie. 

And  never  a  one  of  the  fifty  to  sneer  at  a 
rival  bride. 

Thought  in   the  early  morning,  solace  in 

time  of  woes, 
Peace   in  the  hush  of  the  twilight,  balm 

ere  my  eyelids  close. 
90 


THE  BETROTHED. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me,  asking  nought 

in  return, 
With  only  a  Suttee's  passion — to  do  their 

duty  and  burn. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me.  When  they 
are  spent  and  dead, 

Five  times  other  fifties  shall  be  my  ser- 
vants instead. 

The  furrows  of  far-off  Java,  the  isles  of 

the  Spanish  Main, 
When  they  hear  my  harem  is  empty,  will 

send  me  my  brides  again. 

I  will  take  no  heed  to  their  raiment,  nor 
food  for  their  mouth  withal. 

So  long  as  the  gulls  are  nesting,  so  long 
as  the  showers  fall. 

I  will  scent  'em  with  best  vanilla,  with  tea 
will  I  temper  their  hides, 
91 


THE  BETROTHED. 

And  the  Moor  and  the  Mormon  shall  envy 
who  read  of  the  tale  of  my  brides. 

For  Maggie  has  written  a  letter  to  give 

me  my  choice  between 
The  wee  little  whimpering  Love  and  the 

great  god  Nick  o'  Teen. 

And  I  have  been  servant  of  Love  for 
barely  a  twelvemonth  clear, 

But  I  have  been  Priest  of  Partagas  a 
matter  of  seven  year; 

And  the  gloom  of  my  bachelor  days  is 
flecked  with  the  cheery  light 

Of  stumps  that  I  burned  to  Friendship 
and  Pleasure  and  Work  and  Fight. 

And   I   turn  my  eyes  to  the   future   that 

Maggie  and  I  must  prove, 
But  the  only  light  on  the  marshes  is  the 

Will-o'-the-Wisp  of  Love. 
92 


THE  BETROTHED. 

Will  it  see  me  safe  through  my  journey, 
or  leave  me  bogged  in  the  mire? 

Since  a  puff  of  tobacco  can  cloud  it,  shall 
I  follow  the  fitful  fire? 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider 

anew — 
Old  friends,  and  who    is  Maggie  that    I 

should  abandon  you  ? 

A  million  surplus  Maggies  are  willing  to 

bear  the  yoke; 
And  a   woman    is  only  a  woman,    but  a 

good  cigar  is  a  Smoke. 

Light  me    another  Cuba;  I    hold    to  my 

first-sworn  vows. 
If  Maggie  will  have  no  rival,  I'll  have  no 

Maggie  for  spouse ! 


93 


